Heart Whisperer
by uhpockuhlipz
Summary: Santana Lopez's story is truly a fairy tale. This rags to riches actress came from nothing and made herself into a big star. When Santana's mother gets sick, however, she'll discover a whole other side of her life she never expected to find. And the sweet, aggravating cowgirl called Brittany Pierce is totally not going to be a distraction. Probably.
1. prologue

There were a lot of things Santana Lopez hated.

Animals for one thing, particularly large animals that could kill her without a second thought. They were hairy and smelly and too high maintenance for someone with a busy schedule.

Her father for another. That one was probably higher up on her list of hated things actually. She didn't know the man, not even his name, and she didn't care. She didn't have to know him to know the story of how she'd come to be. Santana's mother, Maribel Lopez, was a loving woman who worked too hard for too little. She'd been so young when the man who was Santana's father came into her life, swept her off her feet, slept with her, and took off again. A young romantic blinded by the stars in her eyes, that's what her _abuela _said with all the scorn of an old Catholic woman who was angry with her daughter's life choices. And as much as she loved her mother, Santana quietly agreed.

For as long as Santana remembered, it had been only them. Her mother worked three part-time jobs while raising Santana on her own, something that she'd grown up both loving and hating about the older woman. While Santana had admired her need to take care of them both herself, she hated seeing her bust her ass for next to nothing. More, she hated how tired she was all the time and how hard she tried to hide it from her with a smile and a wave. Santana vowed that when she was old enough, she would make it so that Maribel would never have to work for anything again.

So that's what she did. She worked and pushed and broke through barriers until she became what she'd always wanted to be- a well-known and well-loved actress. It started with small side roles, little parts that earned her next to nothing. But she never settled, never said that was enough, and it wasn't long before she took Hollywood by storm. People respected her (or, you know, maybe feared her. Either way worked). More, she did a damn good job. There were so many awards lining her shelves now, shining statues that showed her accomplishments to the world.

She got her mother a nice apartment not too far from her own. Modest, but nice, and she didn't have to work three jobs to keep it. She didn't have to work any jobs to keep it. Everything was going just how she'd always wanted them to go and for that Santana was grateful. Life was good. Life was perfect.

And then her mama got sick.

/

"You look tired, _mija." _Santana gave her mother a quick smile, her shoulder lifting as she looked down between them at the hand she held. When had Maribel become so frail? Her fingers felt thin beneath Santana's and she was almost afraid she would break her even with just the gentle way she held them.

She looked up again only to find her mother watching her, smile warm despite how much older she seemed. It was like Maribel had aged ten years in two weeks. And yet she continued to comfort her daughter, continued to understand her in a way no one else ever had. There were a lot of people in Santana's life now, but she never let any of them get too close. Only her mama. She was all Santana needed. "I'm fine, mama. There's just been a lot going on."

Maribel gave her a sympathetic smile, her hand flipping beneath Santana's to give it a gentle squeeze. "The press, they've been bothering you, _si? _Not letting my poor girl sleep even though her mama is sick." Well, because her mama was sick, but Santana wasn't about to talk about the number of people shoving microphones in her face hoping to hear that Maribel's condition had worsened so they could get the scoop on her grieving. Bastards.

Santana lifted her mother's hand and pressed her hand to her cheek, a sigh escaping as the familiar gesture soothed her. "Don't worry about them, mama. I'm handling it."

Maribel nodded, smiling again as she patted her daughter's cheek lightly. "Of course you are. My _Santanita_ always handles everything for herself." She was quiet a moment before sighing and pushing up slightly in bed, struggling to sit up despite Santana's protests. "Don't coddle me," she snapped. "I'm sick, but I'm not a weak old lady who can't even manage to sit up in bed." Breathing a bit harder, Maribel stealed herself and looked towards her daughter. "You can't do everything alone."

Santana shook her head. "I know, mama. That's why I do it with you, right?"

"Santana... I am sick. I think..." She sighed. "I think it is time you met your father." The young actress stared at her mother, uncomprehending. Her father? Why would she want to meet a man who didn't want her? "I haven't been completely honest with you about him."

"You told me he didn't want to be a father," she said slowly.

Maribel's eyes were wet and pleading. "Please try to understand why I did this. Please."

Her heart beating fast, Santana took a step back from the bed. "Did what?"

"Santana... He didn't know I was pregnant."


	2. ride the sky

Kentucky was nothing like New York.

Santana stared out the windshield of her rental with something akin to horror as the acres and acres of green pastures and white fences spread out on both sides of her. They stretched as far as she could see, dotted with unidentifiable animals that grazed and slept and ran around like the humongous stampedes-to-be that they were. And if all of that weren't bad enough, the road her GPS took her down was dirt. _Dirt. _Santanadidn't even know that roads were still made of anything but pavement, and yet here she was, kicking up a dust storm behind her as she inched down winding curves towards the buildings she could see in the distance. What the hell had she gotten into?

The main house was made of brick, two solid stories and way bigger than anything she'd ever lived in as a kid. Santana tried to hold the resentment at bay, tried to remind herself that he hadn't known so why would he have done anything for her? But it was hard to blame her mother when Maribel had struggled for so long to take care of her and so Santana found herself scowling at it anyway as she parked and stepped out of the car.

She knew instantly that her outfit wasn't exactly made for this environment. A dress, tight and short, didn't suit the rustic air. And the heels were definitely not made for walking through dirt. Obviously Santana hadn't thought this through very well.

As she stood staring up at the main house with her arms folded over her chest, the distant sound of barking reached her. The sound was accompanied by a rumbling sound, as terrifying as an earthquake. _What the fuck...? _She looked around, dark eyes narrowing as she watched the dog dart around the corner and bolt for her, black and white and far too large with far too many teeth. She squealed and stumbled backwards, falling into the car as the dog came closer until she was sure it was about to kill her.

"Diego, _sit!" _

He stopped inches from her, quivering as he plopped his butt down and lifted a gentlemanly paw, tongue lolling. Santana stared. From around the corner came horse and rider, the thunder she'd heard before. Like the dog, the horse was quickly approaching. And like the dog, it stopped short of reaching her with far more distance between. The rider grinned down at her and Santana, finally tearing her eyes away from the death traps that were the animals in front of her, found herself shocked to the core.

It was a woman, blonde and trim and freaking gorgeous_. _Santana had always assumed that men worked on ranches. Men with pot bellies and gruff mannerisms who spoke in drawls so thick it was like another language. But this girl... Well, she was none of that. "He's waiting for you to shake," she noted and Santana blinked, glancing down at the dog now pawing at the air impatiently.

"No thanks." No way was she touching his dirty paw, right in biting distance. That shit was so no happening. Sat above her, still astride the horse, the woman lifted her eyebrows. She reached up and pushed up the brim of her Stetson, scratching at her forehead a moment before she called off the dog and swung down from the horse's back.

With her on the ground now, Santana could see that she was taller than her despite her heels, long and lean and bright. Her skin glowed with health and sun, the freckles that sprinkled her skin adding to the whole look of her. She wore jeans and boots, a tank top under a plaid button up, and everything seemed to be layered in a coating of dust. Santana didn't know what to make of it all and she folded her arms, hugging herself as she scowled at the woman, the horse, the dog. Blondie only continued to smile. She patted her horse's neck and reached down to scratch behind the dog's floppy ear. "You lost?" she asked.

Santana's scowl deepened. "God, I hope so," she muttered before sighing and shaking her head. "I'm looking for a... Garrett Pledge? He supposedly owns this place."

Blondie lifted her eyebrows again. "Mr. Pledge? Sure does. He's not in right now though. Won't be for another hour or so yet. You need something?" Unused to the overly familiar and careless conversation style, Santana stared back. She hadn't been anywhere in a long time where she wasn't immediately recognized. She'd been in so many films, after all. So many guest appearances on popular shows, so many commercials advertising products she didn't use. And yet there was not a glimmer of recognition in the blue eyes that watched her. It was... a strange sensation.

"I... need to speak with him on a personal matter. If he isn't in, then I'll wait." Her nose wrinkled as she looked around again. "Is there somewhere... cleaner I can wait, Miss...?"

"Brittany." The woman smiled, friendly and sweet. "Britt is just fine. I'm sure we could find you a nice, clean chair to occupy, Miz..." She trailed off, echoing Santana's implication from moments ago. Realizing that she actually had to introduce herself for the first time in years, the young actress supplied her name. And when Brittany offered a kind, "Nice to meet you, then, Miz Santana," and offered a hand, she couldn't help but reach out to shake it.

Brittany didn't shake, but simply held, Santana's fingers caught within her own. Those eyes of hers, blue as the summer sky stretched out above them, were almost unnerving as they stared into Santana's. "Real nice to meet you, Miz Santana," she hummed after a moment, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze before dropping her hand. Santana frowned at her, uncertain, but Brittany was soon chipper again as she moved back to her horse and slipped the reins over her head, patting her thigh at the same time to beckon the dog to her side. "Well, follow me then. I'll bring you around to the kitchen to wait. Maybe Dorothy will make you a sandwich or something."

Not quite sure she was ready for all of this, she stared after Brittany and lingered beside her car. And then at last she jogged forward. Santana fell into step beside the blonde and followed her lead around back. Life was going to change now, but wasn't that why she was here?

/

Dorothy turned out to be the housekeeper in the main building, equal parts cook and ranch mother hen, or so Brittany said. The taller girl, after passing off her horse to a stable hand walking by on his way to do some work, led Santana towards the back door of the big brick house. Diego led them both. Dorothy was cooking some sort of something or other and the entire kitchen was too hot and smelled like heaven. Her crinkled paper face was molded into a scowl as she popped something else in the oven, dabbing at her brow where sweat beaded. She looked up as dog and girls entered, her scowl not shifting an inch (though her eyes went mother soft as she looked at the dusty horse rider). "Brittany Susan Pierce, what have I told you 'bout coming in here lookin' like you done took a roll in the dirt with those horses a yours?" she snapped, her hand reaching down to scratch at Diego's ears.

"Sorry," Brittany said, grinning unashamedly at the older woman as she leaned down to peck her cheek. "I was taking Cleo for a ride and I found Miz Santana here up front. Was looking for Garrett, but he's not back yet so I brought her this way." Both pairs of eyes swung back towards the silent Santana and despite her years in the business, she found she'd never felt more scrutinized.

Though Dorothy was definitely on the wrong side of aging, her dark eyes were sharp and observant. She took in the whole of Santana with one swoop of her gaze and it took everything in the younger woman not to fold her arms across her chest and hide whatever it was the housekeeper looked for. "for Garrett?" she echoed at last, lips pursed. "What you lookin' for Garrett for, girl?"

Santana shifted nervously, not quite sure how to take all of this. Still, she wasn't about to let some old lady and a skinny blonde cowgirl intimidate her. Shoulders squaring, the actress lifted her chin and said stiffly, "Personal business."

"Same line she gave me," Brittany said with a grin, sliding her butt onto the center island as she snagged an apple and bit noisily into it. She was looking at Santana again, observing her quietly as she chewed. "What're you cooking, Miz D? Sure smells good."

The housekeeper turned her frowning gaze away from Santana, scowling again as she swatted at Brittany. The girl slid off the counter, still smiling, choosing to lean against it instead. "Homecoming meal for Mr. Pledge. Ain't nobody else gonna cook for the man, so might as well get something in him. He's too skinny. And Brittany, come to think. Y'all would think I never fed a soul 'round these parts. And you." The last part she directed at Santana, jabbing a long wooden spoon in her direction before using it to stir the contents of a pot. "No one feed you where you're from? You're even smaller than this damned troublemaker."

"I eat enough," Santana replied, stiff. "Thank you." Her diet was very strictly maintained, her body kept in shape by her own strict exercise regime. People who wanted to survive in her line of business had to know how to care of themselves. "Not that it's your business."

"True enough," Dorothy conceded, eyebrows lifted. "But if you're gonna be around for dinner, you'll be eatin' a proper meal. Heard me?"

"She heard," Brittany cut in before Santana could speak, eyes bright as they found Santana's. Santana, about to make a snappy reply, bit her tongue and remained silent and tense beside the door.

The next hour passed slowly. She checked her watch every few minutes, increasingly nervous. What was Garrett Pledge like? What would he think about Santana Lopez standing in his kitchen, glaring at his housekeeper?

What would he say when he found out she was his daughter?

As time ticked away, Santana found herself doubting her ability to go through with this. The ring she wore on her right hand twisted around and around as her nervous fingers manipulated it. She kept looking towards the door, towards the door frame leading out to the rest of the house. It wouldn't be hard to leave. It wouldn't be cowardly. Garrett Pledge never had to know he had a kid...

"Doing okay?" Santana jolted, looking sharply up at Brittany where the other woman stood beside her, fingers touched gently to her waist to get her attention. "You look like you're about to be sick."

Santana side stepped away from the blonde's touch and nodded, but it was obvious Brittany didn't believe her. She watched Santana closely with her southern summer eyes and smiled softly, offering something without forcing Santana to take it. It made the smaller woman relax degree by degree, fingers pausing briefly where they twisted the ring she wore. What was it she saw in those eyes? It was unfamiliar, unwavering. It comforted and warmed and kept Santana strangely calm as she looked back into Brittany and saw it there...

"Smells good."

The voice that filled the room was deep, gruff. Instantly Santana went stiff again as the man stepped into the kitchen and moved to take a plate from Dorothy, instantly forking a mouthful of food past his lips. He was a big man, broad shouldered and obviously strong. A man weather worn from years of outdoor work, his face unshaven and tanned from the sun. White. He was a white man, and that surprised Santana for some reason. For a moment she wondered if maybe this wasn't Garrett Pledge after all. But...

His eyes. His eyes were Santana's.

And when they looked up and saw Santana for the first time, when the man froze mid bite and lowered his fork slowly back to his plate, she wondered if he saw it too.


End file.
